


Niangua River

by treefrogie84



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s05e03 Free to Be You and Me, Gen, crappy first aid practices, inappropriate use of condoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 00:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12737244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treefrogie84/pseuds/treefrogie84
Summary: The hunt goes poorly. The hunt goes really really poorly.





	Niangua River

The monster fish-thing ducks back under the river, pulling its tentacles with it. Reggie curses before scrambling towards the river bank and the crystal knife he’d dropped trying to get out of the tentacles’ way. He hears Tim shout behind him and barely has time to duck before a lit stick of dynamite flies past him and sinks into the river. 

Silently, he counts down ‘three- two- o--’ before the explosion lifts what looks like half the river from its banks.

One of the thing’s tentacles shoots out of the water, hardening its tip into a point, and impales Tim, pushing him backwards and into a tree, before breaking off the tip and retreating.

Reggie looks back towards Tim, but if he doesn’t take care of this thing, they’re both going to die. Grabbing the knife, Reggie throws himself into the water, searching for the center mass of the monster before it shakes off the dynamite. A couple of limbs float towards him with the current, he hacks them off with his machete, thrashing his way upstream to where the giant catfish head is slowly surfacing.

Taking his best guess for where the heart lies (it’s catfish-shaped, therefore has catfish anatomy, right?), he plunges the crystal knife into the body of the abomination

It convulses twice, ichor fountaining out before being washed away by the river. He drives the knife in deeper, waiting for _something_ to indicate it’s well and truly dead. Nothing happens for a long moment, until he decides to just let it rot.

Reggie drags himself back to shore. Tim is slumped at the base of the tree, wooden spike still in place, pinning him to the tree. Reggie pauses to take a quick look -- it’s almost certainly in a lung, maybe nicked some other things too -- before rushing to the truck and the first aid kit. For once, they had been lucky and the truck is parked only a couple dozen yards away, in one of the campsites.

Tim howls when Reggie touches the spike.

Reggie winces. “Be quiet, you’re gonna call the cops down on us.” Even in deep fall, some deer hunter will call the cops if he thinks someone is getting murdered.

Tim presses a hand over his mouth, muffling his noise. When Reggie moves to pull the stake out again, he nods.

Yanking it out in a broken pull, Reggie’s eyes widen as blood trickles out. The puncture is huge, over an inch wide at the entrance point. He’s fairly certain there should be more blood.

Digging through the kit for the alcohol wipes, he glances up at Tim. “You’re barely bleeding at all. Faker, making me take care of the monster while you took a nap.”

Tim looks down to where the alcohol wipes are cutting through the blood and dirt, before answering breathlessly, “I did my part--” He leans his head back and sucks in another breath, “-- with the dynamite. Hacking and killing--” more breathing, “-- are your job.”

Reggie looks down at the wound just in time to see a bubble form and burst. Swearing, he carefully wipes the blood away and pushes a pad of gauze over the top. “Hold this.” He grabs Tim’s hand and presses it in place to hold the gauze.

Condoms. Where the fuck are the goddamn condoms? Eventually, he finds a red foil package about six inches long and three inches wide. It’s packaged like a condom at least. Picking it up, he holds it so Tim can see it. “What the hell is this and where are the fucking condoms?”

He spins around when Tim doesn’t respond. 

The gauze is soaked through, Tim’s hand lying limply over it. “Tim!” 

Tim rolls his head over to look at him, eyes unfocused. Now that he’s paying attention, Reggie can hear the hissing coming from Tim’s chest. He rips open the foil packet, praying that it’s a chest seal or something he can use in place of it.

A flimsy piece of plastic falls out, one that looks more like a knuckle bandaid than a condom. Picking the foil back up, he stares at it. ‘Galactic Cap: Pregnancy Prevention.’ Looking up at Tim, he pulls the paper covering the adhesive away from the stupid thing and tries to figure out how to best arrange it over the gaping, sucking wound. Giving up, he haphazardly centers the green dot over the hole and presses down the adhesive with shaking hands.

For a little bit, it looks like it’s going to work. It buys him enough time to tape gauze over the the parts of the hole that are still exposed, even complete the seal. The blood isn’t bubbling anymore at least, and Tim’s chest isn’t bouncing up and down.

Reggie looks up to reassure Tim. He’s going to be just fine. Maybe forced to retire from hunting, but--

Tim’s eyes are closed, a thin line of blood dribbling from blue lips. 

“No.” Reggie breathes, frantically pushes aside the layers of shirts and jacket to expose Tim’s chest fully. Even from up close, there is a distinct bulge to the other side of Tim’s chest, opposite the bandaged wound. Both sides are still. “Tim?”

Nothing. 

He pulls Tim down so he’s flat on his back, starts chest compressions -- that’s what you do, right? When someone isn’t breathing? -- ignoring the crack of broken ribs. Broken ribs can be healed, collapsed lungs can be reinflated. Death is the one thing a hospital can’t beat.

He cycles through five times, compressions and breathing, watching Tim’s move with every breath before he leans back. “C’mon, Tim. It was a punk-ass water demon. This is not how you die.”

Tim’s chest stays still, his lips blue

Trembling, Reggie reaches out to check Tim’s pulse, ignoring the bulging veins. Holding his breath, he waits. And waits some more. And some more.

It’s only when the sun falls behind the trees on the other side of the river that he comes back to himself. Mechanically, he packs up the trash, dropping it in the first aid box. 

Climbing to his feet, he looks at their truck. Pulling out Tim’s blankets, he drops them next to Tim’s body. He’ll need to wrap the body in them.

The sun has fully set by the time he’s gathered enough wood for a pyre. 

**Author's Note:**

> If death and destruction aren't really your things, how about skipping the kudos button and checking out some [Drowstiel Fix-It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12663276) or some [Leverage/ Supernatural Jail Break](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9564434) instead?
> 
> If you do like death and destruction, you should definitely check out [episode codas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9564434) or [season 6 the way it should have been](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11372664).


End file.
